


Bad or benevolent?

by fangirl2013



Category: The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman
Genre: Angst, Battle of Wakefield, Gen, Tragedy: Death of a Brother, Unhappy musings, York vs Lancaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl2013/pseuds/fangirl2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle of Wakefield would always have been memorable. Margaret doesn't realise just how memorable will be!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be kind of sad, sorry. What can I say? I'm aiming to be the queen of angst! Hope it's not too bad, anyhow.

With his sweat slicked skin and blood drenched clothes, the Earl of Rutland looked younger than his seventeen years. Propped up on a makeshift bed, he appeared helpless and defenceless. Margaret of Anjou hung back in the shadows, her face contorted as she thought. The sight before her should have caused her to feel triumphant or even happy but that was not the case. She didn't even feel calm. Her fists were clenched tightly by her sides and as they started to ache badly at the action, she barely noticed. Her eyes completely on the dying boy. 

Edmund's laboured, painful breathes filled the eerie silence of the chapel and as much as she wanted to relish in the sound of them, her heart felt heavy. His broken body squirmed as pain engulfed him. Her quick footsteps mingled with his winces momentarily and as soon as she sat next to him, her hand found his. 

"Ma mere? I'm s-sorry." His voice was weak, almost inaudible and Margaret had to strain to hear his words. His eyes were closed, as if the weight of his lashes were too great for him. Words failed Margaret as she looked at the York boy. Her throat felt uncomfortably thick and strained and gulping proved fruitless as she still couldn't speak.

As Edmund's loose grip on her hand tightened considerably, she realised he was once again suffering. A grimace had changed his peaceful face and as his body squirmed, seeking the relief he desperately wanted, Margaret felt a odd but distinctive sense of compassion and unhappiness. The thought sickened her and for the briefest of moments, she desired to snatch her hand away. It was as if she remembered who her young prisoner was. York's boy. Would he, if the situation was reversed, hold her Edward's hand? Unconsciously, her grip tightened at the thought. 

Thoughts of the battle, as bloody as it had been suddenly filled her uneasy mind. Edward's happy, young smile appeared as if to torment her and cause her worry to intensify. It reminded her of just how young and relatively innocent he was. His hands were not covered in blood, unlike hers. Without thinking, Margaret's gaze flew to Edward's hands. They were by his sides, languidly. 

With a rueful smile, she noticed they were clean. The physician must have cleaned the remnants of the battle away when he'd seen to Edmund. The gaping wound on his chest oozed blood heavily and she watched almost as if entranced as the blood trickled. Finally, Margaret found her voice. 

"No, Rutland. I'm...." Her half-hearted words trailed off, as if as she felt unsure as to how to continue.

Correcting him would mean telling him who she was and the thought of distressing of him gave her no pleasure. As minutes passed and night edged ever so closer, he appeared to be weakening. Her hatred for who he was or even his damned Father was not enough to outweigh the compassion she felt. Apart of her, and she didn't quite know why, wanted to comfort him.

A lone tear escaped him as he breathes grew even more laboured as he struggled to speak. Margaret quickly wiped the tear from his pale cheek. The sight of it made her feel worse and her frayed, unstable thoughts could barely handle it. Her words as she spoke were harsh as a result.

"Easy now. Save your strength." She commanded to him, sounding very much like the queen she was fighting to be. All attempts at speech ceased and once again, silence descended upon the small room. 

The slow and drawn out rhythm of his chest rising and falling captured her focus and she found herself gazing at it. The action of it relaxed her slightly and she barely noticed Lord Clifford's arrival. The clicking of his heels on the stone floor should have penetrated her mind but it hadn't. By the time she noticed his appearance, it was too late to reclaim her hand back from Edmund. Despite his weak state, his grip on her hand was tight, almost vice-like. He seemed to be holding on to it as if his life depended on it. 

"Madam, you should be not be wasting your time on the York puppy. He will die anyway." His voice was stern and to the point. 

Indignation and pure fury filled her being and immediately, she yanked her hand away from Edmund's tight grip. It was a violent action and Clifford noticed as a flicker of panic crossed his face. As Margaret stood up, coming to her full height, looking majestic and furious, he composed his features. He was not the type of man to give away his weaknesses, no matter what they were. 

"How dare you presume to tell me what I can't do? Has the battle addled your brain?" Her words were calm, startlingly calm and he knew her fury was still mounting. 

Looking at Edmund, dispassionately and without compassion, Clifford knew he needed to backtrack. If only to prevent his queens further fury. Her eyes were red rimmed and watery and her nostrils were flared in a familiar show of anger. It puzzled him greatly. Why should his queen care about the York boy? He was everything she hated. Or at least, he was everything she should hate. 

"No, no. Of course, I do not. I was merely...." His voice trailed off, as he thought rapidly of what to tell her. 

Margaret waited patiently for him to finish but when he did not, she started talking. Very much aware of Edmund's painful gasps of breath behind her. It only served to make her snap at Clifford, her nerves completely frayed.

"I will talk to you later. You have nothing useful to tell me." Her voice was full of calmness but the fury in her brown eyes warned him to leave. Sighing softly, unhappy and annoyed with Margaret, he turned to leave her presence. Not before noticing Margaret had quickly retook her seat by Edmund's side.

Without giving Lord Clifford another glance, Margaret turned her attention to Edmund. He appeared to be quieter and as she retook his hand, he didn't grip her hand for a few moments. The rise and fall of his chest had also slowed and she knew it wasn't long before it would stop altogether. The thought definitely did not fill her with joy. Edmund looked even younger than he had before. His skin was white as fresh snow and his hair, which his mother had always described as shiny, was by now damp and lack lustre. 

Raising a hand, Margaret moved his hair away him pale face. All the while, thanking the heavens, her Edward was not in Edmund's place!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Margaret meets Edward of York, after Towton, she's still very much troubled by Edmund's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is alright.

With her son's small hand nestled in her own, Margaret was reminded just how little her young son was. His wide eyes were wide with innocent curiosity and she tried to bring a comforting smile to her stiff lips. Although, Edward was not yet upset, Margaret desperately wanted to avoid her son becoming afraid or on edge. The air felt thick and heavy with tension and it was enough to make Sussex quiet beside her. Edward must have not noticed or rather he was distracted. 

"Maman, I'm hungry." He complained, before tugging on the sleeve of her dress. As if to prove his point, his stomach rumbled loudly. Margaret noticed Edward's amused grin but felt no desire to chastise her son. Her nerves were frayed and she did not want to take away her beloved son's amusement by being stern. 

Stroking his hair softly, feeling his soft tresses in her fingers, she quietly soothed him. His impatience showed on his young face and it seemed to calm Margaret's nerves. Any worry she held over Edward's personality vanished and she could easily see herself in the stubborn set of his little shoulders. 

"In a little while, mon amour. We are all hungry, Edward." The lie fell from her lips as easily as the endearment had. She felt anything but hungry. Her stomach felt full enough as it was. Nervous knots tightening as she thought of the impending meeting. 

Her son looked by no means pacified by his mother's words but he did not speak again. Perhaps, Edward had finally noticed just how nervous Sussex was. Edward's gaze turned to the man beside his mother and within a glance, he'd noticed Sussex's tight grip on the hilt of the sword. He opened his mouth to speak, as if to ask about what was going on but seeing his maman looking so stern, he stopped himself. 

Margaret's grip on her Edward's hand tightened as the sound of horse hooves echoed down the quiet York street. Shooting one last quick glance to Sussex, she let out a shuddering breath. Too much was at stake and a meeting with Edward of York was not what she wanted. Her mind flew to his brother without her realising until it was too late. Edmund's last quiet, painful breath echoed in her ears and it seemed it was all she could hear as he heart pounded painfully. How many times would that moment return to her, leaving her breathless and upset? She did not know but she pushed the thought aside as she finally met Edward of York! 

Sussex stiffened slightly as they pulled up in front of her and even her son, as young as he was, reacted to their presence. A scowl, very much like her own, was on his face. She squeezed his hand, tightly, as if to tell him nothing was wrong. Margaret eyes appraised the young boy as he dismounted his horse and instantly, her mind compared him to Edmund. Edward of York looked not only taller but more.... intriguing. As much as it galled her to admit it, she could easily see why men were prepared to die, fighting with him. He looked like a king.

Her free hand balled into a tight fist as fury engulfed her. If she, a queen, could see him as a king, the damn English peasants would as well. Her hand started hurting with the pressure but she was glad of it. It stopped her from taking Sussex's sword and running the York pup through were he stood.... 

Something stilled within her as she remembered Lord Clifford's damning judgement and calling Edmund a 'York pup'. Her fury cooled as if cold, freezing water had been thrown over her. Unconsciously, she gasped softly. She wanted to ignore thinking of Edmund but found herself unable to. She didn't quite know why.

"York." Her voice was cold, devoid of any warmth she possessed but it held none of the previous fury she felt. Her thoughts were still full of Edmund and she found she was thankful Edward of York looked so unlike his younger brother. It would make killing him easier. She would not always be tormented with thoughts of Edmund. 

Edward of York stared passively at her, as she spoke and it angered her. He was looking at her as if she was no-one of importance and he made no attempt to respond to her. She gritted her teeth in her anger, which Edward finally responded to her. The amusement shinning brightly in his eyes mocked her and she once again, thought of Sussex's sword. Edmund's brother or not....!

"The bitch who murdered my brother." His voice held no anger, but Margaret could see the restraint it took him not to let himself get angry. She had not expected him to call her by her title as queen, of course not, but taking away her name was too much of affront for her temper. She felt like putting her hands around his neck and squeezing the life out of him. 

Sussex tutted, almost playfully at the York in front of him and it broke some of the tension, if not all. Margaret quickly turned to look at her man, with a look of surprise on his face. He'd sworn his loyalty to her yet he could hear her acknowledged in such a way. It seemed ludicrous to her!

"That is hardly the correct way to speak to a lady, my gracious lord. My lady gave your brother everything he desired. Her own physician tended and cleaned his wounds. That I assure you." Margaret's mouth opened slightly as she listened to Sussex's honeyed words. He didn't even seem angry at Edward. 

Edward looked sceptically at the both, as if he wanted to trust neither but finally, he spoke to them. Showing them he had at least listened to Sussex's words. 

"He still died, Sussex." He reminded the man, softly. Too softly. Too measured. Margaret could see Edward was still stopping himself from reacting angrily or at least, to not show it. An eruption was imminent, that was pretty clear to her. 

Sussex nodded at his words solemnly and Margaret wondered what he was going to say next. What on earth could pacify the angry York in front of them? Talking about Edmund was making the situation even more volatile. Sussex had to be a fool if he hadn't realised that. It seemed he had not as his next words proved that.

"Aye, he did. Regretfully so but my benevolent lady did everything in her power to prevent that happening. Your dear brother just happened to be too injured to benefit from the care bestowed on him. He was not harmed when he was in our care and he died a peaceful death. It was neither alone or on the battlefield." Once again, Sussex's words were soft, making his words sound sincere enough.

Edward narrowed his eyes slightly at the both of them, his hand resting on his sword. His eyes flickered in between the both of them before landing boldly on Margaret. His icy stare bore into hers without shame. She almost felt as if he could see inside her soul, see all the hatred she had there. It made her want to drop her eyes. It was only her stubborn pride that prevented her. 

"What say you, 'my benevolent lady?'" He asked her, mocking Sussex's words with relish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment? :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's meeting with Margaret turns very much into the nightmare she'd dreaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope this is alright. Don't judge Edward too harshly. He's grieving for Edmund.... :/ Anyway, so if he appears mean, I am sorry.

Margaret swallowed quickly, her mouth unusually dry. Despite Lord Sussex's calm expression, she felt nervous. Her son's grip had tightened on her hand and it only served to remind her of what she had to lose if the meeting went badly. Thoughts of her husband did not come to her nor did her desire to regain the throne. Edward, seeming small and vulnerable, was all that filled her with concern. Edmund had been young when she'd watch him die but it seemed nothing to just how young her son was. Her voice shaking slightly, Margaret fought to keep treacherous tears at bay. Edward of York was not a man to be persuaded by tears. Of that she was certain....

"My lord, what my lord Sussex says is true. Your brother received the best possible care. Nothing more could have helped him." A sardonic smile came to the new York king's face but it was obvious to both Sussex and his queen that there was neither warmth or happiness in it. 

His eyes, showing them the hatred they both knew he felt, caused her to worry even more. Her words had not changed his feelings towards her or her son. After looking over at his companion, a question seemed to occur to the him. The realisation of it brightened his face momentarily as if he was aware of information Margaret was not and relished in the feeling. As nervous and worried as she felt, she couldn't help but want to strangle him for it. Silence held no comfort to her and it only prolonged the meeting. Something she had not wanted or approved. 

"Do you accept me as your sovereign?" His words were soft, but not wholly unexpected. Nevertheless, Margaret felt surprised and angered that he had the nerve to ask such a question. Had he assumed that she would kneel passively at his feet, like a devoted subject? Looking at the blank expression on Edward of York's face, she knew it was a test. 

Every bone in her body wanted to protest as she knelt in front of York but the love she felt for her son overwhelmed her and quickly, within a matter of moments, she was on the ground. Her pride prevented her from looking at her son or Sussex so she merely looked ahead at the man who she wanted so very much to kill. 

"Do you?" He repeated to her, when silence still filled the air. Margaret felt no desire to lie, to put feigned loyalty into words and as she looked at York, she felt furious. Once again, her teeth connected with her cheek, biting down on the flesh of her there, hoping it would help to calm her warm blood. Finally, she found herself able to speak calmly. 

Her son, by now, had noticed the severity of the situation as he was quiet by his mother. Seeing her knelt in the dirt and dust of York city had been a sobering sight and it was one he had not liked. His maman was the queen and it was not her place to kneel before anyone. Including the man infront of them. He scowled silently but held his tongue, watching the scene with curious but wary eyes. 

"Of course, my lord. I had no intention of doing otherwise." She replied, her eyes never leaving York's face.

She watched his reaction to her words with trepidation and tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. The silence felt torturous to them all and it seemed almost ludicrous to her that he would wish to prolong it. A smile she could only describe as mocking appeared on Edward's face and it was clear he knew her words were false. Feeling dread mount in the pit of her stomach, she picked up her son's hand. The feeling of his soft, warm palm in hers soothed her slightly but her heart still pounded harshly in her chest.

After exchanging a glance with his companion, a light wry chuckle escaped Edward. The sound made Margaret the hair rise on her neck and despite herself, she felt the need to shudder. The sense of foreboding replacing all feelings of hoped that had remained within her. Very much aware of her position on the ground, she waited with baited with breath for him to speak. 

"I thought you would you say that to me. Do I really look like the fool you think I am? Do I look like my dear brother? I will not let you to betray me. You want to be queen and you will do anything to get there! You even butchered my brother in your attempt to reclaim the throne. Why should I let you live?" Edward's words were a flurry of accusations but none of which were false. Margaret found herself speechless.

Her mouth fell open but for a few torturous moments, she was unable to speak. The knowledge that her words would determine her son's fate stilled her tongued more effectively than any man ever had. The feeling of her son clinging to her hand, however, propelled her into speech. 

"Mercy, my lord!" She exclaimed, her desperation obvious to the men. Whatever effect she had hoped her words, she couldn't help but let out a gasp of shock as she felt Edward yank her from her knees by her elbows. His hands digging into her flesh, making her wince. His fury now clear and completely obvious to see. 

Sussex quickly moved forward to help his queen but a warning look from Edward stopped him in his tracks. Still holding on to Margaret, who was trying to edge away from him, her words had broken into his composure and he was making no attempt it. Despite Margaret's initial gasp of shock and her squirming in his painful hold, she tried not to react. Her son's enraged cry, however, proved too much for her to countenance and her eyes filled with tears of anger.

"What of mercy when you put my brother's head on Micklegate bar? Desecrating a body is hardly merciful, my lady! Yet here you ask for mercy...." His shouting became quieter, eventually turning into a murmur as he trailed off, his furious eyes looking into hers. 

Margaret tried to hide her feelings. Her panic threatened to overflow and it was only her son's presence that stopped her from crying out. Words would only serve to infuriate him further and she was not willing to make the same mistake Sussex had done. She was, after all, not a fool.

"You deserve no mercy.... but unlike yourself, I do not wish to see your corpse desecrated and dishonoured. You will be executed at the first possible opportunity and then you will finally get what you deserve." Margaret's blood ran cold at his words but her thoughts were not for herself but her son. Would he executed too? The thought chilled her to the bone and bile rose up in her. 

Her voice were soft as she spoke, her fear completely palpable to the man gripping tightly onto her. For the first time since their meeting had begun, she let down her defences. Her eyes, which held no hope or happiness, filled with tears she'd previously refused to shed. Edward stared at the woman he hated but pity did not come to him. She was responsible for Edmund being taken from the world and no matter what she said or did, he would never forgive her. Justice was the only thing he knew he'd get from her death!

"What of my son?" 

Edward's eyes widened silently as if he was shocked she didn't care about dying, only the fate of her son. His gaze turned to her son, whose stony face and tear filled eyes looked back at him, and he seemed to think before answering her. His voice held no comfort for her, despite his words. 

"He will be able to keep his Father company in the tower. Do you not think that a great plan?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment?

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment?


End file.
